Take Me Home Page 8

  “Oh, here she comes . . .” She rolled her eyes and went to greet Lorna.

  My eyes surveyed the room, looking for whisky; now that would help. As I made my way towards the nearest bottle I could spot, somebody stood between me and my Laphroaig.

  A man.

  A man with a tanned face and smiling eyes, and a bunch of white roses in his hands.

  “You must be Inary. I’m Taylor, a friend of Logan’s,” he said, holding out his hand. He had an American accent – New York, I guessed. Who was he? A newcomer, a very new newcomer. He must have moved here in the last few months, because I’d never seen him before. “Logan said you lost your voice. Don’t worry, you don’t need to say anything. Just . . . I brought these for Emily. I’m so sorry . . .” He offered me the bunch of roses.

  I nodded for the thousandth time that day.

  Suddenly, I felt weary. I just wanted to be alone.

  “You must be desperate to be alone,” he said, reading my mind, “so I’ll go now. But I just wanted to say, I work at the dig . . .” What dig? What was he talking about? “Logan and I go out on the loch once in a while. Maybe sometime you can come . . . if you like. With Logan, of course . . .” he added quickly, probably in case I thought he was chatting me up at my sister’s funeral. I didn’t care either way. I looked down, and he took the hint. “So, yes. I’ll see you. And again, I’m so sorry.” He turned away and made a beeline for Logan.

  I sorted the white roses in a vase, and finally I managed to pour myself a drink. I’d settled for a cup of sugary tea. Logan was drinking enough whisky for both of us. I took a couple of sips and felt a bit better.

  But I was still reeling after Lewis’s surprise appearance, with Claire in tow. Thank goodness Logan hadn’t spotted him. Even if my feelings for him had been wrangled out of me, he still had the power to make me feel as alone and bereft as an abandoned child. And I hated myself for it even more than I resented him. I should have never depended on him like I had – no man or woman should have their lives revolve around someone else, only to be empty and lost when they leave. Or maybe that is the nature of love, to become so dependent on one person. Which was why I never wanted to love again.

  In a way, I thought confusedly, I wished Claire luck. That she would not get hurt like I did.

  The bitch.

  I took another sip of tea, and suddenly, Lesley was back at my side. “So, Lewis.”

  I nodded.

  “I never noticed before. He has bow legs.”

  Incredibly, unexpectedly, I laughed.

  *

  At last, it was finished. We cleaned up with the help of Maggie and Liz, two of Aunt Mhairi’s friends from the parish. We were not to worry about a thing, they told us cheerily; they were a dab hand at funerals and wakes, and they’d have everything clean and tidy in no time. Good skill to have, I thought, and I smiled a feeble smile.

  Funerals were complicated affairs, I’d just found out. When my parents died I was too young to be given any real responsibility, but now things were different. Funny thing is, I don’t remember anything about my parents’ funeral – where my memories had been there was now a big gaping hole. A few snippets remained – sleeping at Aunt Mhairi’s; my new cream brogues I kept staring at, too frightened to look around me; my then boyfriend, Ally, sitting in the kitchen, silent and awkward.

  Feeling like the sky had fallen.

  I was grateful to Maggie and Liz, the kind of practical, unsentimental, energetic women you want around when there’s a lot to do and a broken heart to do it with. When they went – one last hug, a few words of comfort – Logan, Lesley and I arranged all the flowers we had been given into vases and displayed all the sympathy cards nicely on the window sills. Emily would have been happy to see how many people loved and cared for her and for us. She would have liked the white roses best – who left them? Oh, yes, the guy with the boat. Emily loved white roses . . .

  Before I knew it, my tears were flowing again on a bunch of chrysanthemums. Lesley was beside me at once, holding me close and patting my back. I had to face the fact that it was finished. Face the fact that there was nothing left to do, except wait for the flowers to wilt and for the right time to put the sympathy cards away in a box to be kept somewhere we wouldn’t see it every day, but not too far either. And except clear out her room, I said to myself desolately. But I couldn’t think of that, not yet.

  So it had really happened. It wasn’t a bad dream. Emily was gone for real.

  Lesley had wandered upstairs, and I didn’t notice Aunt Mhairi leaving too, though she must have said goodbye; all of a sudden Logan and I were alone in the kitchen, surrounded by a sea of flowers and cards and silence.

  And I fell, I fell.

  And then I remembered myself. I knew we needed to keep some kind of normality. I knew we had to keep going. All I could think of was lying down and crying, but there were still things to be done. I opened the fridge door and took out some covered dish or other that one of our neighbours had brought. I put it on the table and rested a hand on my brother’s shoulder, gesturing towards the food.

  “I’m not hungry, Inary. I’ll have a drink.”

  My heart sank. Logan had been drinking all day, and on an empty stomach.

  I shook my head and went to switch the oven on.

  “I said I’m not hungry, Inary! Are we playing house now? Because there’s not much point in that. You’ll be gone soon.”

  Logan’s words wounded me deeply. But even worse was the look in his eyes as he spoke to me. I’d seen him angry, worried, upset, but never before had I seen him this way. His eyes were empty.

  11

  Ice and chocolate

  Alex

  One night three years ago, not long before Christmas, I took Inary skating. She’d only been living in London for a few months, and I was hoping to find a good moment to ask her out – properly.

  London was at its best: everything shone. Everything. The ice glittered, the museum was ablaze with lights, and Inary’s eyes were full of sparkle. It was perfect. We slipped the skates on, Inary’s head bobbing in her bright-blue hat. I stood up and offered her my hand – hers felt small and delicate in mine. I took off slowly, making sure that Inary stayed on her feet.

  “You’re good! It’s not fair!” Inary was holding onto me for dear life.

  “Skating is a bit like riding a bike. Once you learn, you don’t forget. I used to go ice skating in Edinburgh as a child every year in December. Ever been?”

  “No, but I’ve always . . . ooops!” She lost her balance and did a little trying-to-stay-on-my-feet dance. I held her up.

  “Thank you,” she said, and took refuge against me as a group of expert skaters whizzed past us. I draped an arm around her waist, and we glided on tentatively. “I’ve always wanted to go to Edinburgh for my Christmas shopping,” she said. “Never quite made it . . . Always stuff on.”

  “It’s great . . . Edinburgh is beautiful in every season, but at Christmas it’s just stunning. The lights and the panoramic wheel turning, and the piping in the background . . .”

  “To deafen you if you get too close . . .”

  “They do, yes! Maybe we can go, one year.”

  “I’d like that. Emily could come . . . my sister. She’d love it,” Inary said and smiled, sliding determinedly, frowning in concentration as she put one skate in front of the other.

  “Older or younger?”

  “Younger. I also have a brother, older than me. Logan. You?”

  “I have three sisters.”

  “Oh . . . Should I commiserate you? The only boy? Or is it a good thing?”

  “It’s a good thing, really. They all look after me like mother hens. Though they say that my mum thinks I’m the golden boy who can do no wrong!”

  “That’d be Logan, yes!” she laughed.

  “You having fun?”

  “I’m loving it!” she replied, and let go of my hand. Hesitantly at first, she skated away, then a little bit further. She laug
hed, full of Inary-happiness. “Look! I’m doing it!” She was like a child learning to cycle.

  “Brilliant!” I kept an eye on her blue hat, among hats of every colour and shape. “Keep going!”

  “Uh oh . . . Alex!” She was wobbling.

  I reached her and held her hand tight, steadying her. “You have a strong arm,” she teased, her eyes twinkling.

  “Couldn’t think of a better compliment. My granny always said that about me.”

  We skated on, with Inary becoming more and more ambitious. She was doing great until a little girl changed direction suddenly and Inary had to brake fast to avoid crashing into her. She lost her balance and toppled over.

  “Ouch . . .”

  “That looked sore,” I winced, taking both her hands and lifting her up.

  “It was. But I do not regret a thing!” she said dramatically. “It was worth dislodging a vertebra or two just to enjoy the moment. You know what I fancy?”

  A kiss, I hope? But I didn’t say that. “You fancy a hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows.”

  She laughed. “How did you know?”

  “I just know.” I grinned.

  We ended up in a little café not far from Oxford Circus, full of Christmas shoppers trying to take the weight off their feet. There were silvery fairy lights all over the walls, like a Santa’s grotto, and Christmas music played in the background. Our hats, scarves and gloves lay on a chair beside us in a colourful bundle. Steam curled from our mugs of hot chocolate; Inary’s cheeks were rosy and so was the tip of her nose, after skating for an hour in the freezing cold.

  Okay, it was time. I would just ask her. Would you like to go out for dinner with me? Just the two of us?

  I took a deep breath and prepared myself.

  “I was won—”

  “Oh, look at those lights! I love winter in London,” she said. “It sparkles. Glen Avich in winter is dark and quiet.”

  Argh. Missed my chance! “Dark and quiet can be beautiful too,” I replied. Do you see yourself ever going back?” I waited for the answer with my heart in my throat. I didn’t want her to go anywhere.

  “For good? I don’t know. I miss Scotland, though. I never thought I would leave. Then . . . stuff happened.” She glanced to one side. “Would you go back?”

  “I’m not sure. I miss Scotland too, but . . . I don’t know if I’d go back.”

  “Your parents are in Edinburgh, aren’t they?”

  “And my sisters, yes.”

  “What are you doing here all alone, then?” she laughed. “Maybe, the same as me . . .”

  “Why, what are you doing?” I smiled back.

  “Forgetting,” she said, and licked some cocoa-covered cream off the spoon. “Mmmm . . . this is gorgeous.”

  “What? Forgetting what, I mean? Sorry, I don’t mean to pry . . .”

  “No, it’s okay. Forgetting someone.” She shrugged.

  “Oh . . . I’m sorry,” I replied, hoping to God that this guy was out of the picture.

  “Better this way. Taught me a lesson. I just want to get on with my life.” She sighed and smiled a brittle smile. “I’m done with all that. Never again, I’m telling you.”

  Oh.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to depress you! Are you seeing someone?” She tilted her head to one side.

  “Not at the moment, no. I was. Not any more.” I took a long sip of my hot chocolate and scalded my lips. Better not say that the break-up with Gaby had a lot to do with meeting her.

  “What brought you to London in the first place?”

  “Originally work. But I love London. Five years here last November.”

  “You haven’t lost your accent.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  “Me neither,” she said, and laughed. “I feel like we should burst into song, now . . .”

  “Some sentimental song about missing Caledonia?”

  “That. Or ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’.”

  And then I thought what the hell, I’ll ask her. What’s the worst that could happen? That she says ‘no, I just told you, I’m done with all that’? If I don’t try, I’ll never know . . .

  “Inary. I was thinking . . . Maybe we could go out for dinner sometime . . .”

  “Sure! Why not tonight?”

  “Oh . . . Yes. That’s great . . . I can book somewhere . . .”

  “Lesley should be here any minute; she said she was in the mood for Indian . . .”

  Right.

  As if on cue, a well-known voice interrupted us. “Hey! How was the skating?” It was Lesley, laden with Christmas shopping. She let herself fall onto a chair at our table. “I need a cup of tea!”

  I leaned back in the chair, deflated.

  So that went well.

  “Hello! I’ll get one for you,” said Inary, and got up at once.

  My face was frozen in a smile. It was the first time since Lesley and I had met that I actually wasn’t happy to see her.

  “It’s bloody freezing outside! By the way, you’ll be excited to know that your Christmas present is in one of these bags. But which one?” she teased emphatically. I looked at her, trying to muster a smile. “Alex?”

  “Yes?”

  “You all right?” Lesley arched a brow.

  “Yes, why?”

  “Inary texted me to say you were here, and I was just around the corner in the Candle Company, and . . . Do you mind me joining you?”

  She must have read my expression. I felt terrible about it and tried to recover myself.

  “Not at all! Sorry. Are you hungry? Do you want to get something to eat?”

  “Oh,” she said, and her lips opened in a slow smile.

  “Oh, what?” I asked.

  Her eyes twinkled and her grin grew wider. “You like her. As in . . . you fancy her. Inary,” she whispered, turning around briefly to check that Inary was out of earshot and then leaning in towards me. “Oh my God!”

  “Yeah, well . . .”

  “Oh my God!” she repeated, a little louder. She was beaming. “Just like I planned!”

  “You planned?” I began. I couldn’t believe it. My sisters, Gary, Kamau, now Lesley. Did I have “looking for my soulmate” written on my forehead? Why was everybody trying to set me up?

  “There you are!” Inary was back. She placed a steaming cup in front of Lesley. “To warm you up a bit. I got you some cake as well. What’s wrong?” she said, looking from me to Lesley, then back.

  “Nothing,” Lesley said quickly. “Alex was telling me how much he loves skating. You really enjoy it, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. I suspected that my cheeks were scarlet, like a ten-year-old sent to sit beside his first crush.

  “So do I! As from today!” Inary declared, and took a sip of her hot chocolate.

  “You’ve got to take Inary out more often,” said Lesley, smoothing her ponytail of braids. “You both look so happy.”

  12

  Looking for Emily

  Inary

  I didn’t go upstairs until the small hours. Logan was in his room – the drink had knocked him out – and Lesley and I sat watching something or other on TV and not really paying attention. What mattered was not being on my own, not having to go to bed, close my eyes and think terrible thoughts. We were on the verge of falling asleep on the sofa when Lesley dragged herself up. I gazed at my watch – two in the morning. Again. I was living on no sleep.

  “Off to bed,” she announced, and squeezed my shoulder. “Will you be okay?”

  I nodded, though the truthful answer would have been no, I won’t – but I knew Lesley needed rest, and so did I. I followed her upstairs and she disappeared into her room with a whispered goodnight.

  In the back of my mind was fear and longing mixed together, that what happened the night of Emily’s death would happen again, that I would see her. Part of me was hopeful; part of me was frightened. All of me was longing for Emily. Would it happen again?

  After seeing the ap
parition at my dressing table, I’d spent hours staring into the darkness, half longing, half terrified. I’d willed my limbs to tingle, the hum to start in my ears. I’d willed the air to turn electric, the hair on the back of my neck to stand up, a sudden chill to grip me. But there was nothing. I’d lain awake in my bed, rigid with frustration, my tears turning icy in the cold of night, torturing myself with thoughts of Emily.

  And still, if it turned out that my Sight really was back – that thought was frightening too. The reason why I’d lost my gift when I was twelve was too terrifying for me to recall. I’d done my best to forget.

  Now, as soon as I stepped through the threshold of my room, I froze. The air was thin, charged, like right before a storm; it felt different from the rest of the house. I looked around me and took an uncertain step in, reaching for the light switch. The light illuminated every corner, and I surveyed the room. There was nobody there – and still, I could feel something. Something in the space around me. Something in myself.

  I washed and dressed for bed quickly, teeth chattering in the damp night air. I switched the light off again and lay, still shivering, under the duvet. I just couldn’t get warm, and although I wanted to cry, to try and release some of the grief, I was all cried out. I lay there curled up like I was sixteen again and I’d just been orphaned, hugging the pillow and hoping dawn would come soon. Another sleepless night.

  All of a sudden, something travelled through the air and burst into the room like a lightning bolt – a rapid rush of static, filling my ears with a low sound and touching each and every one of my nerves, like a bow on fiddle strings. My limbs started tingling, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and my skin puckered into goose bumps. I sat up and stared into the gloom, panting hard.

  Emily? I mouthed. And then: Emily, is that you? No sound came from my lips, but I knew it wouldn’t make a difference to her.

  Nobody answered. The darkness didn’t stir.

  Nobody.

  Disappointment filled me again and turned into rage, angry tears finally rolling down my cheeks. Was this some kind of cruel trick my senses were playing on me? Some horrific side effect of grief, hope given and taken away, to break me even more than I already was broken? I slapped my open palms against the wall over and over again, enjoying the release of pain, small sounds escaping my mouth like the yelps of a little animal. Then I remembered myself, and stopped at once – had Logan and Lesley heard me? The last thing Logan needed was to see me like that. I pricked my ears in the darkness – nothing.